


not even my wife stayed

by psychiatrist_returning



Category: The West Wing
Genre: Angst, F/M, Fluff, Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-06
Updated: 2021-01-06
Packaged: 2021-03-17 01:40:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 711
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28591893
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/psychiatrist_returning/pseuds/psychiatrist_returning
Summary: Josh is fine, but you’re shot at Rosslyn. And Sam is worried
Relationships: Sam Seaborn/Reader





	not even my wife stayed

**Author's Note:**

> from my tumblr, psychiatristreturning

As you weaved your way through the crowd of Secret Service agents you called to the President. “Mr. President!” the smiling man turned around to look at you opening his arms toward you. 

“Y/N! The Lord has certainly blessed us tonight!”

You fought to hold back a smile, “He sure has,” the crowd was cheering for the president, and it felt like all was right at that moment. Like you and the campaign were invincible.

But it was soon shattered by the yelling Zoey’s Secret Service agent, Gina, screaming “GUN!”

You truly don’t know what happened after that, you just know you ran to the crowd and pushed people out of the way. Then, bam, a sharp pain in your chest. You fell back as the wind was knocked out of you. But, somehow you couldn’t regain your breath. No one could see you. Staying awake for someone to find you was the goal. If you knew someone saw you, you could give up. You didn’t want to be found dead. 

Then, almost like God heard your plea, someone appeared. Sam. You used the little strength you had left to lift your hooded eyes to his. And he stopped, when he saw a person he loved in grave danger, such as this moment. Sam couldn’t collect the voice needed to save you, saying “doctor” weakly and then yelling, “I need a doctor! Y/N’s been shot!” and at that moment just about everyone there knew it was serious if Sam was yelling. 

After that you lost consciousness, the mess of screaming and sirens, blared in your head. You floated in between understanding words said around you, like ‘blood-loss’ and ‘shot’. But other than that you were still on the President. Was he okay? Where was he? Is he dead? But those thoughts were practically forced out of you as your mind went blank. Totally and completely blank. 

~~~~

When you woke up, you thought you had been asleep for maybe an hour, but looking at the concerned face on Sam, you could discern that it had been longer. You wanted to speak but your mouth was to dry. You felt tubes in your wrists and a dull ache in your side. The events of the night before were blurry, and you weren’t exactly sure where you were. You glanced down at your hand where you could register a warmth. Sam hand his hand wrapped around your limp one which you managed to weakly squeeze. He looked up at you and smiled, his eyes crinkling, his eyes showed that he had been crying. “Y/N…” he whispered softly. 

You somehow were able to twist your face into a smile, “Thank you,” you croaked out. 

Sam patted your hand and stood up, walking out of the room and talking to a nurse, he came back in and sat down once again, handing you a plastic cup of ice chips. You gratefully took them, then looked worriedly at Sam, “Is the president okay?” 

“He’s coming in now, he was shot in the arm.” 

You took a deep breath and was shocked as the man who you had helped elect, hobbled into the hospital room shakily. Sam stood and Bartlet only rolled his eyes and waved his hand, “Sam, if you could excuse Y/N and I for a moment-” 

“Of course, sir.” Sam retreated out of the room, softly closing the door as the president sat down next to you. 

“How are you feeling?” 

You laughed, which turned into more of a cough, “I don’t even know what happened to me,”

“You were shot. Your lung collapsed, and you may have died if Sam didn’t go looking for you.” His eyes looked over your tired features, “Sam stayed at the hospital all night, during your surgery and sat here holding your hand all day.” He smiled at you. “That boy loves you.”

You looked incredulously at the president, “Sam does not love me, he was just being friendly.”

The president looked at you with that gleam in his eye that got him elected, “My wife didn’t even stay this whole time. Trust me.” 

He stood up to leave but as he walked out you called to him, “Sir!” he turned to you, “Thank you.”


End file.
